


Is Something Burning?

by WordsAblaze



Series: Whumpskier [14]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Branding, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Multi, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Lambert (The Witcher), Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, i just love that tag so much, no beta we die like jaskier doesn't, sorry i didn't know to tag the relationships, who knew blacksmiths could be so twisted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: Jaskier has no problem belonging to his witchers but they definitely have a problem with how the blacksmith wants him to show his loyalty... day fourteen of whumptober.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other Witcher(s)
Series: Whumpskier [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949428
Comments: 4
Kudos: 229





	Is Something Burning?

**Author's Note:**

> once again, i couldn't choose a witcher so jaskier gets all of them ;)  
> today's pairing: jaskier/wolf witchers  
> prompts used: branding

They let Jaskier out of their sight for approximately ten minutes.

Unfortunately for them, ten minutes is more than enough time to lose a bard.

A bard who doesn’t realise what’s happening until he wakes up to the crackling of flames. “What…?” he mumbles, pulling himself upright, leaning on the wall to his left so he doesn’t immediately topple over and looking around for any clues as to what had happened.

It’s not exactly the first time he’s set out with his witchers only to find himself alone but there’s usually a mage explaining a vendetta against him or a plan to move up in the world by killing him.

“You’re awake already?”

Jaskier groans. “Must everyone continue to comment on that? Isn’t it rather obvious?”

He regrets asking that when he sees the blacksmith glaring at him. It’s one thing to have an unfamiliar captor but knowing that they’d been here only days ago to fix Eskel’s sword makes him more than a little uneasy.

“You talk a lot, bard,” the blacksmith says, walking over to him.

He can’t help but step backwards, holding his hands out in front of him. “Wait, wait. What is this about? Did you change our price? Because I assure you, we can-”

“It’s not about the coin,” the blacksmith interrupts, and Jaskier suddenly wishes he could recall the man’s name. 

He steps backwards once more, too late realising he’s in a workshop so he probably shouldn’t do that, and ends up crashing into a series of swords that clatter off their hooks onto the ground, a few of them briefly slicing into his skin as they do - he’s oddly thankful he isn’t wearing the new doublet he most definitely was before.

Wincing, he looks back at the blacksmith. “I’m very sorry about those beautiful swords. I swear I can pay to have them fixed if I have in any way damaged them or-” 

“Tell me more about those witchers,” the blacksmith orders, stepping even closer. 

Jaskier swallows. “The ones who came in here with me a few days ago? They’re absolute sweethearts, I promise, they won’t even  _ think _ of crossing you and they tend to leave glowing recommendations.”

“And you?”

Jaskier winces again as he steps on a sword and it bangs against the floor. “I am their humble bard, of course. Someone needs to tell their tales, wouldn’t you agree?”

“ _ Their _ humble bard, hm?”

Jaskier only gets to experience a split second of confusion before there are two men harshly shoving him forwards, dragging him over to a low table. He struggles but it doesn’t matter, they’re far stronger and he’s tied up face down before he’s even vaguely figured out what’s going on.

“Did we do something to offend you? Because I promise that killing me will do the exact opposite of solving your problems.”

He smells their plan before he sees it.

“Oh no, no no no no, wait. I’m certain we can come to some sort of arrangement here!” Jaskier knows his voice has become far more shrill than a bard should ever sound unless they wish to be as tiresome as the likes of one Valdo Marx, but he can’t help it. 

The blacksmith chuckles, ignoring his protests in favour of pushing his shirt up and exposing his lower back. “You’re  _ their _ bard, this shouldn’t be a problem unless you want to admit you were lying.”

He can’t do that.

“Of course not, I- I would never lie about them. There’s more humanity in just their eyes than you could hold in your smallest toe and-” he cuts himself off with a scream.

Gods, does it  _ burn _ .

He forgets there’s more to his body than his back as soon as the metal touches his skin. He tugs uselessly on the rope around his limbs but he can’t slip free and arching his back does nothing to dislodge the awful heat he knows he’s not going to forget for years to come, if ever.

“Now you’re forever  _ their _ bard,” someone whispers right beside his ear and he jerks his head away with a choked sob, wishing he could tell them that he didn’t need a brand to prove that.

It hurts so, so much more than he could ever have possibly imagined and he can’t stop himself from screaming no matter how ardently he wills it. In the end, he’s pretty sure the only reason he doesn’t lose his voice entirely is because he loses consciousness

“Can you hear me, Jaskier?” 

He groans in response. Only for his skin to remember that it feels like it’s on fire and force him to cry out again, flinching away from the hand on his back trying to steady him.

Said hand retreats sharply and only a different hand on his shoulder stops him from hitting the ground. He can’t remember why he’s on the ground and not tied to the table any longer but he’s in too much pain to coherently question anything out loud.

“Here, drink this,” someone whispers as something is pressed to his lips. He doesn’t even bother to consider if it’s safe, gulping the bitter drink down and shuddering when it hurts even more to swallow.

“Open your eyes, Jask.”

Are his eyes closed?

He doesn’t know but he follows the instructions nonetheless. Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert smile at him once he does.

“Have you seen it?” Jaskier rasps immediately, coughing as his voice refuses to function.

The three of them share a sheepish look before nodding slowly. Jaskier nods back at them, awfully tired despite having clearly spent so much time unconscious, and asks, “What is it?”

“Jaskier, you need to rest,” Eskel replies, but it’s not the answer he was looking for.

He shakes his head, hissing softly when that somewhat aggravates his back, and looks down at his hands, wanting to cry when he sees the bandages around his wrists, both because he can’t stop thinking about their origin and because the thought of his mighty witchers gently wrapping them is just too  _ soft _ for him to process at the moment.

“It looks like a paw print,” Geralt tells him quietly; Jaskier had expected something along those lines but he hates the information nonetheless. 

“Doesn’t look half bad,” Lambert adds, shrugging when the other two glare at him.

“We’re sorry,” Eskel says sincerely, “we should have…”

Jaskier waves a hand dismissively. “I’m alive. You’re all alive. We’ll be okay.” 

And eventually, they are.

**Author's Note:**

> suffice to say, this particular blacksmith will NOT be getting a glowing recommendation... or another breath of air :p
> 
> thanks for reading !! toss a kudos/comment? xx


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